


Perfect Vessel

by peevee



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Horror, Kissing, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/pseuds/peevee
Summary: He was truly lovely like this; such a complex, tangled knot of fear lodged inside him. Elias watched until he fell asleep, then watched as he dreamed of worms, and rot and crawling filth.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Comments: 20
Kudos: 64
Collections: MartinElias Week 2020





	Perfect Vessel

Generally, Elias tried not to make a habit of staying too late at the Institute. He hadn’t actually needed to sleep for just over a hundred and fifty years, but keeping up appearances was important, and if he made a habit of never going home then people might start to ask questions. 

It was unusual, then, that he found himself still at his desk at nearly midnight; the building around him felt hollow without the usual mingled threads of everyday worries and thoughts and little fears that leaked from his staff during the day. Deep below him, in the centre of the Panopticon, his own pulsing heart beat a steady, unending rhythm, and he stretched his awareness out to it briefly on some deep instinct. As he reached through the brick and tunnels and deep earth, Elias felt a little flicker of fear lick at his senses from somewhere not so deep, not so buried. 

Martin Blackwood. Elias had almost forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the building, and as he turned his gaze upon Martin’s sleeping body, he felt another sliver of fear wash over him. Martin was having what looked like an intensely vivid nightmare, and as Elias gazed deeper, he saw the flashes of filth, corruption, worms burrowing deep, slick with blood and other fluids. Martin thrashed a little in his cot but kept sleeping, his breathing speeding up as he dreamed of infestation, invasion, thousands upon thousands of tiny disgusting _things_ crawling and squirming on the floor and in his bed and twitching, gouging at his flesh to make space for their fat pulsing bodies. Elias watched as he whimpered in fear, his eyes moving under their thin membranous lids. He looked lovely, his face wracked with a terror that was as pure as only a nightmare could be. 

Slowly, the tension began to drain from Martin’s body as he slipped into a deeper, dreamless sleep, and Elias blinked back into his own awareness to find that he was holding himself tense, trembling with anticipation.

Martin was an almost perfect vessel for fear. It was partially why Elias had hired him; he’d barely glanced at Martin’s obviously fraudulent CV, more interested in the sheen of nervous sweat across his forehead. The way his eyes had darted around, looking anywhere but Elias’ face. He had been scared of Elias from the beginning. Scared of fucking up, scared of discovery, absolutely terrified that his entire world could crumble down around him with barely a word from Elias. It was intoxicating, to have that sort of effect on someone without even lifting a finger, and Elias had always enjoyed watching him, the way Martin would shiver and quail under his heavy gaze. 

It became a habit. Over the following days, Elias often remained in his office until even the most dedicated researchers had left for their beds, only to turn his gaze down, down into the little storage room where Martin slept. He watched as Martin crawled into the corners of the room, shining a torch behind file boxes and cabinets. He swept the covers from the makeshift bed and inspected the cot, then did it again five minutes later, before stripping down and peering at his own naked body in the eerie torchlight. He checked everywhere from the soles of his feet to the point of his elbows before finally crawling into the cot and shivering under the blankets. Even then he twitched, brushing invisible crawling things from every part of his exposed skin as he began to drift off. Once, Elias watched him leap from the bed in a sudden, frantic movement, scratching at his arms until they were covered in long pink fingernail marks. 

“Stupid,” he said aloud to the empty room. “There’s nothing here, Blackwood! She’s dead! She’s dead.”

He sat on the cot, then seemed to think better of it and lifted his feet from the ground, cocooning the blanket around him. He was truly lovely like this; such a complex, tangled knot of fear lodged inside him. Elias watched until he fell asleep, then watched as he dreamed of worms, and rot and crawling filth. 

The dreams worsened. Elias didn’t even need to exert much influence at all to coax them forward, fear simmering as it was at the surface of Martin’s mind. He woke more and more frequently, sometimes thrashing the covers right off the little cot before he realised where he was and sat up, gasping. It was at one of these moments that Elias found himself outside the door of the little room, drawn there by the overwhelming need to _see_ Martin trembling with the fear that Elias had helped to draw from him. He pushed the door open just as Martin woke with a shout and scrambled backwards off the cot. 

“What… what the _fuck_! Elias?”

“Martin.” Elias held his hands up and made his voice soft and unthreatening. “Martin, it’s alright. It’s just me.”

“God,” Martin gasped. “Bloody hell, Elias. I thought you were… something else.”

“I apologise for disturbing you,” said Elias. “I heard a noise as I was leaving for the night and came to investigate. It seemed like you were having a bad dream.”

Martin tugged the blankets around himself and sat back on the bed. Elias could see that his hands were shaking. 

“Yeah. Been having a few of those, lately. Uh… sorry, sorry for disturbing you.”

“That’s quite alright, Martin.” Elias stepped closer, letting a little more light in from the corridor. Martin’s face was cast in pale relief, the skin around his eyes dark with exhaustion. “Tell me about your dreams.” He didn’t have an Archivist’s persuasive powers, but he could still ask. He liked the way people talked about their own fear.

“Jane Prentiss, mostly. Worms. Just, you know, your everyday nightmarish living hive that wants to kill you and make a nest of your body. They’ve just been… _so_ much worse, lately. It makes sense, I suppose… that I would dream about her, after what happened in my flat. They just seem so _real_ , and… this is going to sound stupid -” He looked up at Elias, expression deliciously open. “Lately I can’t get rid of this feeling that I’m being watched.”

“There aren’t any security cameras down here,” said Elias, “or I would suggest them as the culprit.”

“No, I know. I checked.”

Elias had watched him, his hands skimming the walls, searching for cracks or gaps that someone, some _thing_ could see through. 

“You’re safe in here,” said Elias. “The Institute is well-protected. This is the safest place you could possibly be.”

“I know. I _know_ , thank you. I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you for letting me stay here. I do appreciate it, and… sorry, I’m babbling. Sorry. You should get home, shouldn’t you? It must be late.”

“I always have time for my employees,” said Elias. “I hope you know that you can come to me with anything, Martin. Anything at all.” 

Fear flickered in Martin’s expression, and Elias tugged at it instinctively. It was a mundane sort of fear; discovery, disappointment, cold fury. _Does he suspect? God, he knows, he knows._

“If there’s anything you’d like to tell me, any time.”

“Uh-um. No, no. Thank you, Elias.”

“Well. I’ll leave you. I hope you sleep a little easier, Martin. 

“Goodnight.”

Elias couldn’t help himself from watching for just a little bit longer. All of Martin’s fear was lovely, but his fear of Elias was _personal_ , and Elias savoured it as Martin lay awake and trembling in his bed. 

-

It was simple avarice, really, that kept drawing him to that little room. Elias fed his god and fed it well, but a little indulgence couldn’t hurt. He knocked on Martin’s door just as the sounds inside were becoming high and frantic. 

“Martin,” said Elias. “I’m coming in.”

There was a clattering sound, and then -

“It’s fine - I’m fine -”

Elias eased the door open, eyes greedily taking in the thin sheen of perspiration on Martin’s face, the mess of sheets badly slept upon, the dark shadows under his eyes. He stepped forwards, then sat down beside Martin on the cot before he could make any more hollow objections. Martin shivered as Elias sat, then shivered more when Elias reached out and clasped his shoulder. He felt warm and temptingly human, and Elias rubbed his thumb over the soft skin under his fingertips.

“Elias, what are you -? Um. Um, I -”

Even now, with Elias leaning in close, Martin was afraid. He wasn’t even sure what he was afraid _of_ any more, and that was lovely too. Elias let his eyes drop to Martin’s mouth, and watched the way Martin swayed, as if he was being drawn in and repelled all at once.

“E-Elias,” he said, so soft and close that Elias felt rather than heard it, breathed out against his mouth. He let the moment hover, quivering between them like a single strand of a spider’s web, before his patience broke, and he surged forward to take Martin’s mouth. Martin _yielded_ , so suddenly and completely that Elias almost gasped at the feel of it; his mouth had gone tender, his hands clutching at Elias’ shoulders. Elias slid his hand up into Martin’s hair and _tugged_ , and Martin moaned and pressed towards him, shivering all over. 

Elias let himself indulge in the feel of it; Martin trembling against him, touching their tongues hesitantly together, his breathing coming in shuddery little inhales like he couldn’t get enough oxygen. Just when he was utterly wrapped up in sensation, Elias nudged at him with the knowledge that the door was still open, the lamp still on.

Martin dragged himself away with a small gasp, his eyes darting from Elias to the doorway, where light spilled in from the hall. 

“Umm - I don’t… what if somebody -”

“Shh, nobody’s here.”

Elias eased Martin down, pushing him lightly by the shoulders until he was flat on the little cot with Elias above him.

“I’m not sure you can… I mean, are you _sure_?”

“Mm,” said Elias, dismissive, as he pulled the collar of Martin’s pyjamas to one side to kiss his neck. 

“Elias, I don’t think we should… s-surely this isn’t, uh. Professional.” 

“Oh, it’s extremely unprofessional.” Elias undid the first few buttons of the pyjama top and nosed at his chest. Martin’s nipples were a sweet shade of rosy pink, and they tightened up pleasingly against his tongue as Martin squirmed under him. His hands dropped from Elias’ shoulders to tug at the sheets.

Elias sat back on his heels and looked at him; flushed, displayed on the rumpled bedding. He looked, and felt his god looking through him, the Ceaseless Watcher’s searing gaze pinning Martin where he was. Before it, he was stripped, _flayed_ open, all his carefully kept secrets cracking open like delicate little eggs. Elias watched as the pulse at his throat leapt and began to race, and he scrabbled weakly at the coverlet in agitated confusion. 

“What -!”

Elias leaned down and nosed against the thick line of his cock where it still pushed urgently against the fabric of his pyjamas. “Do you want me to suck you?” he said, and Martin shuddered and pushed up against his open mouth.

“I… uh, um -”

Elias caught one of his hands and pressed a thumb to his wrist, feeling the throb of blood through the thin skin there. Martin’s cock twitched a little against his lips, caught sweetly between arousal and panicked adrenaline, and Elias pulled him carefully out of his pyjamas and swallowed him down, tasting salt and sweat and terror.

“Oh,” said Martin. “Oh, god, Elias -”

He was perfect, like this. Hot and urgent in Elias’ mouth, slippery with desire and trembling as he was displayed under the weight of Beholding’s regard. Elias pushed his thighs apart, slid his hands up them, pressed his nose to Martin’s belly and swallowed and swallowed as Martin moaned, so greedy for more of him. If he could unhinge his jaw, maybe he’d swallow Martin whole.

“They’re watching,” Martin gasped, suddenly. “Elias. It’s watching me.”

His whole body tensed up, and his eyes darted sightlessly around the room as Beholding looked its fill. Elias pulled up to suck on the tip of him, his eyes meeting Martin’s, wide and bloodshot. _It sees you_ , he thought. _It knows you._

Martin flung his arm out, his back bowing. His eyes were still locked with Elias’, glossy with tears; Elias could feel him trying to look away, trying to hide himself, but it was no use now. He was seen, and he was known to his very bones. 

Martin spilled into his mouth with a cry that sounded more like a sob. Elias swallowed, then licked at him until Martin began to soften under his tongue and squirm from the stimulation. Elias reluctantly pulled off to press a tender kiss to his hip and tuck him back into his pyjama bottoms.

“What is it?” he said eventually, inflection flat. “What is that thing? I… I felt it _see_ me, Elias. It saw… god, it saw right through me.” He shuddered. 

“It is the Ceaseless Watcher,” said Elias. “Beholding. We’ve fed it very well, tonight.” He let himself relax, his head resting on Martin’s belly. He could feel the way that Martin was held rigidly beneath him, and he sighed. 

“Though I suppose you’re right. It’s not quite time for you to know that, is it? I admit, I’ve been a little reckless.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘fed’?” said Martin. His hands flew up and came close to Elias, but they didn’t move to push him away. “I don’t understand… who is the Ceaseless Watcher? What do they _want_? I -”

Elias twisted, and moved up to quiet Martin with a kiss. He hooked at Martin’s thoughts as he did so, pulling them like a broken strand of wool from a scarf, the memory unknitting itself under his tongue. 

“I… what?” Martin murmured. “Elias? What’re you doing in here, I thought - ”

“Mm,” he said, pulling away. Martin’s hand came up to touch his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing. “Try to get some sleep, Martin. You can relax here, you’re safe. I promise.”

“Safe,” Martin echoed. He tugged the covers up over his chest and glanced around, before looking up at Elias. “Yes. Yeah. Thanks, Elias.”

Elias rose and put a hand out to give Martin’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.

“Sleep tight,” he said, with a smile. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”


End file.
